Jonathon's Story
by Taylor James Smith
Summary: How Jonathon really feels about Timothy. Takes place in a paralell universe, where the play, and the pansy, never occured. some events were taken from the movie as settings for events in the story. Rated M for Language
1. Chapter 1

I watch you when you're looking elsewhere.

I watch you because you're beautiful.

My eyes follow you when you walk away.

I watch you in the hope that maybe you'll watch me too one day.

I watch you when the others aren't looking, so they don't know who it is I love.

Why won't you watch me too, Timothy? Because Jonathon is watching you…

(Taken, with permission, from arwenjanelilylyra's poem, "I Watch You.")

**Chapter 1**

Jonathon Cordon sat on the bench in the locker room, smelling of the hard game of dodge ball that had just finished. His eyes followed the back of the head of Timothy. "Turn around. Turn around," Jonathon repeated under his breath, his eyes still glued on Timothy's retreating figure. "Please. Turn around and look at me." The locker room door closed behind Timothy, leaving Jonathon alone, amidst the lingering smells of dirty jock straps and socks.

He wished, just once, that he would be able to tell Timothy how he felt about him. How he longed for him. No. "Longed" wasn't the right word. He hungered for Timothy. It was as if Timothy was the one; the one he is supposed to be with. He knew Timothy was gay; that's not what stopped him from telling him how he felt. It was the rest of the school…the other members of the rugby team, more specifically. Jonathon shook his head at the thought of what his teammates would say, or do, if they ever found out about his secret desires. He had an image to uphold. Becky, his beautiful girlfriend loved him. His teammates looked up to him. What would happen if they knew?

But he couldn't help himself. Timothy was all he thought about. It hurt him so much to see the others, even Coach Driskill, harass him mercilessly. Even today, after Cooper nailed him in the eye with the dodge ball, Jonathon wanted to run over and hold him. Why he felt as strongly as he did, he didn't know. After all, he and Timothy never really talked, but something about Timothy just drew Jonathon in more. Sighing, he got up and walked out of the locker room, headed towards Ms. Tebbit's classroom.

Sitting down at his assigned seat, he waited patiently for class to begin. Trying to keep his mind off of Timothy, he watched as Ms. Tebbit dragged her chalk across the blackboard as she wrote. The bell rang, just as Timothy entered the classroom, his right eye, bruised by the hit from the ball. His heart sunk as Timothy walked past him quicky, sitting down in his seat n the back of the room. He didn't want to give anything away, so Jonathon kept his eyes towards the front of the room, wishing he was brave enough to turn around.

As Ms. Tebbit started talking to the class, about William Shakespeare, Jonathon opened his notebook and started scrawling Timothy's name on the last page. Over and over again, he wrote his name as his mind began to wander. Suddenly, it got quiet in the classroom. Turning around in his chair, he found that every chair was empty, but for one. Timothy was slumped over in his chair, his head on his desk, fast asleep. Cautiously, he stood and walked to Timothy's chair. He looks so peaceful, he thought as he reached out, and gently touched Timothy's cheek. Timothy shifted in his chair, turning his face completely facing Jonathon, but didn't wake up. Taking this opportunity, Jonathon knelt down and brought his own face right up to Timothy's. Leaning closer, he could feel Timothy's warm, steady breath on his face. He moistened his lips, closed his eyes, and slowly pressed his lips against Timothy's.

The bell rang, bringing Jonathon out of his reverie. He turned around, just in time to see Timothy bolt out of his chair, storm past him and out the door. Saddened by the fact that his sweet daydream had been interrupted, he quickly closed his notebook, gathered his belongings, and walked out the door, headed for the locker room to change for rugby practice.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

As he was walking towards Becky, Jonathon spotted a shadow hanging out behind the bleachers where she sat, not moving. He couldn't see the face, but he felt this odd sense of happiness, deep in his chest. He smiled as thoughts of Timothy played in his mind. He hoped the shadow was Timothy, waiting to talk to him, but as he drew closer, the shadow retreated, walking away from the rugby field. Becky jumped up as he approached, not noticing neither the look of sadness on his face, nor the way his eyes focused on the back of the figure, pushing a bike along the sidewalk, away from the school.

"You were excellent today, baby!" Becky shrieked as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss, effectively breaking his gaze on the person behind her. He shook his head slightly, and looked down into her brown eyes. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine. I just have a lot on my mind." He bent down and kissed her soft lips, tasting the strawberry lip gloss she was wearing. He pictured Timothy in his mind as they kissed, as he always did; Timothy pressing his pillow-like lips against Jonathon's. Moaning a little, Jonathon pulled Becky closer to him, placing his hands on the small of his back, picturing Timothy wrapping his arms around his waist. After a few minutes, Becky pulled away.

"Are you sure you are okay? You have been acting kind of strange lately. I'm beginning to worry."

Jonathon froze. He hadn't realized he was acting any different. Was Becky getting suspicious? "How so?" he asked, hoping for a simple answer, far from the truth/

"You just seem so distant. It's like you're in a whole different world." She paused, looking him up and down. Frowning, she added, "There is someone else, isn't there?"

"No!" he replied a bit too hastily. Taking a quick break, he pulled her close, and rested her head on his chest. "Of course there isn't. You are the only one I want." He closed his eyes, pushing a feeling of guilt down into his stomach and forced a smile. "You are it for me"

"Am I really?" Timothy replied, standing in the same spot where, just seconds ago, Becky stood, his head on Jonathon's chest. "Am I really the one you want?"

Jonathon stared in disbelief. "Where's Becky?"

"What do you mean?" Timothy asked, looking up at him.

Jonathon smiled. "It's nothing. Just tell me that you love me."

"I love you, Jonathon Cordon."

Jonathon opened his eyes, realized that, once again, the voice from the person in front of him had changed. He stared at Becky with the same feeling of hopelessness he felt when he had a thought of Timothy and him together. He hated these daydreams, but at the same time, he longed for them. Even though he knew it wasn't real, it was the only time he could ever be himself. He stepped back, and took Becky's hand. "I need to get going, babydoll. I have so much homework. Ms. Tebbit laid it on us hard today."

Becky gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Okay. You gonna call later?"

"Don't I always?" he smiled as he dropped her hand and walked off the field, down the same sidewalk thjat the mystery guy took.

Jonathon quickly hung up the phone for the third time. Why was he so nervous? He was Jonathon Cordon, star rugby player for Morgan Hill Academy. He could have anyone he wanted. He picked up his phone, and once again, dialed Timothy's number again.

"Hello!" a woman's voice answered. Silence. "Look. Whoever this is, don't call here again!"

"Damn!" he swore as he slammed the phone down.. "Why can't I talk to you?" He pulled his knees up to his chest and held them there with his arms. Resting his forehead on them, he inhaled deeply. He sat perfectly still, wondering what to do. He wanted more than anything to talk to Timothy, even if for nothing more than just to tell someone his secret. HE wanted to tell someone about his attraction to men, but he had to be careful. He couldn't just tell anyone. It could ruin his life. He'd be beaten, harassed, abused, as he has seen happen to Timothy time and again. What's worse, He could possibly lose his rugby scholarship. He would lose his future. He was about to give up and call Becky, as he promised, when the phone rang. He answered it, timidly.

"Hey bro! Practice was rough today," Cooper's voice rang out on the other end of the line.

"Yeah. I am so sore," Jonathon agreed, partially relieved to hear his best friends voice. "I don't think it will be enough, though. Not to overtake Millbrook for the championship."

"No one playing for Millbrook has a chance against the legendary Jonathon Cordon. Besides, our team is the best rugby team Morgan Hill has ever had."

"That is partially true."

"'Partially'? What do you mean by that?"

"Well, we would be the best, if _someone_ was picking up the slack."

"You best not be talking about me!"

Jonathon laughed. It was nice that, even though he was so torn up inside, he could still count on Cooper to make him smile. With his mind off of Timothy for the time being, he talked and joked with Copper well into the early morning hours. The last thing he seen, like so many nights before, as he closed his eyes to sleep, was Timothy's smiling face in front of him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Jonathon sat on the front steps of Morgan Hill, watching, as the students started arriving and waiting to see who would be riding a bike, trying to figure out the identity of the person behind the bleachers the previous afternoon. He recalled, with amazing detail, the height of the shadow, as well as the body size. He was hoping someone, riding a bike, would fit the description. He didn't know why, but for some reason, he felt that it was the most important thing in the world, to find out who was hiding out back there. He couldn't explain it. He _had_ to know.

All morning he waited, until just before the first bell sounded. Not a single person came on a bicycle. He stood up, and started to head to the school; about to give up what he thought was a fruitless endeavor, when he heard the sound of a bike being placed in the rack next to the stairs. Turning, he smiled as he saw Timothy locking his bike to the metal pole and pulling his backpack off his shoulder. Jonathon quickly sprinted up the stairs, until, what he judged, was the same distance away as he was from the mystery person at practice. His smile widening, he promptly realized that Timothy had the same exact body type.

"Hey," Jonathon called, casually, as Timothy approached him on the concrete steps. Timothy stepped around him, casting him a hasty glance before opening the big double doors and vanishing into the swarm of teenage boys in the school. Feeling dejected, Jonathon followed, just as the bell sounded, wishing, more than anything, that it was Timothy behind the bleachers.

…**.**

"Since yesterday was our last day for dodge ball, today, since you are all seniors, and are old enough to handle it, we are going to start a segment on wrestling," Coach Driskill explained as the Phys Ed class sat on the bleachers in the Gymnasium. "I'm not talking about that crap they show you on T.V. I'm talking about Freestyle wrestling.. Is there anyone in this class who does not know what I'm talking about?" The coach's eyes immediately focused on Timothy, who raised his hand slightly. Driskill rolled his eyes.

"For those of you who does not know about this physical and powerful sport," he continued," I will give you a brief rundown. In this form of wrestling, you must pin your opponent's back to the matt. The main difference between Greco-Roman, and Freestyle wrestling, is that, in Greco-Roman, you cant use anything below the waist. For instance, you can't use your legs for the pin. In freestyle, you can use anything you deem necessary for the win. There is an even number of you, so you can pair up. Each pair will have three two-minute periods. Best out of three will be declared the winner."

Jonathon raised his hand. "Coach? Are you assigning partners, or do we choose our own?"

"I have already made the bracket for the tournament. I will partner you up after I finish my explanation. After these first rounds of matches are complete, the losers will run laps, while the winners will compete against each other. After all the matches are finished, the grand champion will receive an automatic 'A' on the final exam. So work hard, boys."

Jonathon watched intently as Coach Driskill went around, paring up students. Soon, all that was left was Cole, Cooper, Timothy and himself. A sudden warm feeling overtook him as Driskill paired Cole and Cooper together. Jonathon stole a swift glance at Timothy, only to see him frowning. "Cordon, you're with the princess!" Coach sneered as the other boys laughed. Timothy's frown became even more pronounced. Jonathon's mood changed instantly. How he wished he could say something to make Timothy feel better. "Now, there are some wrestling outfits in the locker room. Just make sure you're not wearing the same color as your partner. Meet me on the mats in five minutes!" Coach Driskill blew on the metal whistle hanging from his neck, and the class ran to the locker rooms, laughing and talking.

"It looks like we are facing each other," Jonathon said cheerfully as he walked up next to Timothy.

"It's a blast," Jonathon could hear the sarcasm in Timothy's voice as they entered the locker room.

"Don't worry. I will take it easy on you!" Jonathon laughed as he playfully punched Timothy in the arm. Timothy flinched slightly as contact was made. Jonathon followed Timothy to the box of spandex wrestling uniforms. He handed a blue one to Timothy and took red for himself. He watched as Timothy took the blue singlet and walked quickly to the shower area, to change away from the other boys. He shrugged it off, as he pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his hard chest and tight abs. He piled his school uniform in a locker and slipped on the red singlet, which was tight, and showed off every inch of his body. He turned to head back out into the gym, and saw Timothy step back into the locker room. His jaw dropped.

Jonathon always thought Timothy was one of the most beautiful guys at school, but he had no idea what he was hiding under his school uniform. The blue singlet fit his body so perfectly, that ever muscle; every nook and cranny was defined. Granted, he didn't have as flat of stomach as Jonathon did, but what Jonathon saw was the most beautiful sight imaginable. His eyes slowly moved down Timothy's body, stopping only briefly, at the bulge between his legs.

"Kick the little fairy's ass," Cole said, putting his arm around Jonathon's shoulder. Jonathon laughed it off, but felt a stab of remorse as Timothy pushed past him, out to the gym. Shaking his head slowly, he followed behind.

The class gathered around Coach Driskill. He pulled Cooper out of the group and proceeded to demonstrate various wrestling moves. Jonathon watched as Cooper got down on his hands and knees, and Driskill wrapped his arms around his waist. Within five seconds, Cooper was laying on the mat, flat on his back, while the coach held his shoulders down. "That's how its done, boys!' Coach shouted as he pulled Cooper to his feet. "Jon! Timothy! You're up first!"

The class parted as Jonathon and Timothy walked to the center of the mat. Jonathon got down first, and felt Timothy shakily wrap his arms around his midsection. Jonathon closed his eyes momentarily, feeling the warmth and weight of Timothy's body on top of his own. "Ready?" Coach Driskill asked. Jonathon nodded. A second later, he heard the shrill sound of the coach's whistle. He felt Timothy's Grip tighten and he stood up, pulling Jonathon along. Jonathon was surprised by how strong Timothy was. After a few seconds of scrambling around each other, Jonathon lost his balance, and toppled over, bringing Timothy down on top of him. Catching his breath, Jonathon opened his eyes to find himself staring into Timothy's. They held their gaze while Driskill counted Jonathon out.

"Well done, Timmy!" the coach cried. "There seems to be hope for you after all! Now, switch!"

Timothy then got on all fours, a bit more confident now, while Jonathon crouched next to him, and wrapped his muscular arms around his waist. "Ready?" The whistle blew. Timothy fought with everything he had, but Jonathon had the upper hand that time. It wasn't his strength, or his height. It was the tingling sensation he felt somewhere just below his navel. It was fear that either Timothy would feel the hardening bulge in his singlet, or that the other classmates should see it. Jonathon pinned Timothy in less than a minute.

"Good going, boys. This next pin wins." The coach blew his whistle and the final round was a go. Jonathon was back on bottom, and as he struggled against Timothy, he felt something poke him in the leg. He lost all control then, and forgot about the match. The only thing in his mind at that moment was feeling as much of Timothy's body as possible. He twisted and turned, rubbing his back against timothy's chest; his breathing hard and fast. Timothy loosened his grip. Jonathon spun around, wanting to kiss him, but, once again, lost his balance, and fell forward, knocking Timothy down and landing on top of him. It was a pin. Coach Driskill counted Timothy out, then held up Jonathon's hand in victory.

"Fantastic job, Cordon. Fantastic! Cooper! Cole!" He blew his whistle. "Hit the mat!"

Jonathon followed Timothy back to the bleachers to watch the other matches. "Great job," he said as they sat down. "I mean it. You really had me going there." He smiled, realizing the humor in what he just said.

Timothy smiled in return. "Thanks. You were great yourself." They sat together for the rest of the class, cheering on their classmates.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N. Sorry for the delay in the updating. With my move and work and all, I haven't had a lot of time. But here is the next chapter. I am sure this isn't the way most of you wanted, but it is what was in my mind. And sorry for straying so far from the movie, but as I said in the description…this is A/U. The play and the pansy never happened. No fantasy elements are in this story. Its strict drama/angst/romance. I still hope you guys will enjoy this after this chapter…OH! And I will be also posting a story for the gay movie "Eating out," well, it's more of a "In between thing" that happens between 2 and 3. so if you liked those movies, check it out! Now, enough pimping of my work. On to…_

…...

**Chapter 4**

"Jonathon? Jonathon!" a crisp voice rang out. Jonathon snapped back into reality, the daydream of wrestling Timothy pushed back into the deep recesses of his mind. He looked up into the face of Ms. Tebbit. He blanched as the other boys around him giggled. "Can you see me after class, please?" She walked swiftly back to the front of the class.

Jonathon slumped down in his seat, desperately wishing that what he had just seen in his mind was a reality. He wanted to feel Timothy's body against his; his arms wrapped around him, holding tight. He stole a quick glance behind him, and spotted Timothy, in his usual seat in the back of the room, head down, reading a book. Timothy looked up, and the two boys locked eyes. Just then, however, the bell sounded, and Timothy jumped out of his seat and ran out the door.

Waiting until everyone was out of the classroom, Ms. Tebbit walked up to Jonathon's desk, pulled the chair from the next desk over and sat down. "Is everything okay, Jonathon?" she asked, concern in her voice.

Jonathon looked into her eyes. He has always gotten this feeling of kindness and goodness from Ms. Tebbit. He felt that, out of the entire faculty at Morgan Hill, she was the only person who genuinely cared about her students and their well-being. He sighed deeply. "Not really, Ms. T. I am having some personal troubles."

Her eyes looked at him with compassion. "Do you need someone to talk to about these 'troubles'?"

"It's just that, well, I think I am in love with someone. But, I don't know. I feel like, If I were to tell someone about my feelings, they would try everything in their power to keep us apart."

"Is that were you were earlier?"

He looked at her. "What do you mean?"

Ms. Tebbit smiled. "Why, just a little bit ago. When you were sitting here, with that glazed over, far off look you had. You were thinking of him, weren't you?"

Jonathon's mouth dropped. "H-h-him?"

"It's Timothy, isn't it?" she asked, her smile widening. "I've seen the way you look at him." She stood up. "Don't lie to me, Jonathon. I have always had a gift for reading people."

"I d-d-don't know what your t-t-talking about!" Jonathon stammered, jumping to his feet. How does she know, he thought. He never told a soul about neither his feelings, nor his sexuality. "I have to go." He scrambled out from behind his desk, but misjudged his footing, and tripped over the leg of his chair. Ms. Tebbit rushed around the desk and offered her hand to him. "Thanks," he whispered, taking her hand and getting to his feet.

"Look at me, Jonathon. Look at me and listen. I understand you're scared. All I will say is that, if I am right, follow your heart. That is the only thing you can ever trust in this world. Your mind may say differently, but your heart is where all your wisdom comes from. Your mind has been told too many things, by too many people all your life. Your mind isn't clean. Your heart is. In this situation, or any other, your heart is the only thing that can help you through it."

Jonathon sat back down and bent over his desk, his face hidden in his hands. "I just don't know what to do. I don't want to get hurt, and I know if I said anything, I would. I have seen how these people here, including the faculty, treat Timothy. I really don't want to go through the same thing."

"Watching someone you love hurt is a terrible thing. It hurts you, as well. We have all been there. The best thing you can do for Timothy is to befriend him. Let him know that there is someone out there he can go to."

Tears started to fall from Jonathon's eyes. "I want to. I really do. But I don't want everyone to think that I'm gay because of it."

"Shallow-minded people will think what they were taught to think. Hate, Jonathon, is a learned behavior. We are not born with the knowledge to be homophobic, or racist, or anti-Semitic. We are all born with no knowledge of any of those issues. It was what we are taught by our parents, our peers…hell! Society, in general, makes us who we are. As with all things, however, we can change that, with knowledge, understanding and tolerance." She placed her hand comfortingly on his shoulder. "It just takes one brave person to stand up for what they believe in, to make a difference."

Jonathon stood up again. "You're right Ms. Tebbit. I am tired of watching Timothy go about this alone. I may not be able to change everything, but I can damn well try!"

Ms. Tebbit laughed. "Save that spirit for practice, for which you are going to be late to if you don't hurry on up and get to the locker room." She gave him a quick hug, and watched him run out the door. Humming to herself, she straightened up the desks and went to the door and closed it. She sat down at her desk and smiled, not hearing the sound of spray paint in the hall.

…

_A/N. I know it is yet another short chapter. The way I see it though...this story may be made up of short chapters, but considering how many chapters I have planned for this, I think it all evens itself out. Please RR and let me know what you think!_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: The reason it took me so long for this chapter is because I was trying to figure out how to word this, without, for the most part, directly quoting the movie. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a way. So, sorry for the lack of original creativity in the first part of the chapter, but the rest will be better. I promise._

…**..**

**Chapter 5 **

As practice got into full swing, Jonathon's mind was far away from the rugby field. His conversation with Ms. Tebbit replayed itself in his mind. He had always liked her as a teacher. He felt she was the only teacher who tried to connect with her students; tried to make them feel as though they were wanted at school. Maybe that is why he felt so comfortable around her. Especially now, after her words of comfort, he felt a whole new sense of comfort with Ms. T. His mind preoccupied with his thoughts, he was shaken quickly back into the present by a shrill blast from a whistle.

"Okay, boys!" Coach Driskill shouted. "Circle up!"

Jonathon sighed. He stepped away from the others as they made a circle, their fingertips touching. Driskill threw Cole the ball, which he passed to Cooper, who passed it to the next team member in the group. The ball traveled around the circle twice before the coach blew on his whistle again, cuing Jonathon to start his paces. He hated this part of practice. Chasing the ball around the circle was tiring, dizzying and above all, tedious. Quickly shaking his head, he ran after the ball as it was passed from person to person. He had only made three laps when suddenly, Timothy stormed onto the field.

"Who did it?" he shouted, throwing his bag on the ground. "Who tagged my locker? Which one of you thought it would be fun to call me a faggot?" Jonathon stared. He had never seen Timothy so riled up.

"Look who just flew in from fairy land!" Cole said, amidst laughter from his fellow teammates.

Timothy walked straight up to Copper. "Did you?"

Laughing, Copper stared him down. "Hey, bud! Calm down."

"Who did it?" Timothy faced Cole.

Jonathon knew he had to step in. He quickly ran up to Timothy and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. "Let's walk."

Timothy took a few steps, following the pressure of Jonathon's hand, but, as he glanced over, noticed the look in Cole's eyes. Pushing away from Jonathon, Timothy leapt at Cole, shoving him as hard as he could.

"Faggot!" Cole yelled angrily, and launched himself onto Timothy, knocking him down on his back. Jonathon could do nothing as he watched the two boys wrestle on the ground, Cole being egged on by the cheering of the other boys around. "Hey, guys. I caught a fairy," he said, pinning Timothy down to the ground.

Jonathon couldn't stand for it anymore. Fuming, he ran over and pulled Cole off of Timothy. "Leave the pansy alone!" he said. "He's not worth it." He led his teammates away from the field, casting a glance back at Timothy, who was now walking off the field. He watched as he picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, covering the large grass stain on the back of his white shirt. His heart ached to run over to him and comfort him. He knew he couldn't though. Not now. Not after what he just witnessed. Swallowing dryly, he entered the locker room behind Cooper.

"Did you see the look on his face when you tackled him?" Cooper asked Cole. "It was priceless."

"I couldn't exactly see what his face looked like when I was trying to rub it into the ground," he replied, smirking as he took off his shirt. "Can you believe it? The little fag thought he could take me on. That was my senior year moment!" The locker room broke out in gales of laughter. Cole turned toward Jonathon. "What crawled up your ass?" he asked, noticing the angry look on his face.

"You!" Jonathon shot back. Thinking hard of the words Ms. Tebbit said to him, he stepped up to Cole. "Why can't you give him a break?"

Cole laughed. "Give the queer a break? Look who's talking. Didn't you just call him a pansy?"

The words stung Jonathon more deeply than anything has ever touched him before. "I did," he admitted," but I have never, and will never physically attack him.. I mean, what has he ever done to you?"

"He checked me out naked!"

Jonathon stared at him, amazed. "When?"

"Every fucking day after Gym!"

"Are you kidding me? In that case, every damn guy in this room right now is gay, because we all shower together." He turned away from Cole. "Grow the fuck up, man. Get over yourself!" He started walking toward his own locker.

"Why do you care, anyway? Are you in love with him or something?" Cole's words made him stop dead in his tracks. A thin smile spread across his lips.

"No, but the way you go off about him, I'm starting to wonder about you!" With that, without changing his clothes, walked out of the locker room, leaving a shocked Cole behind. He walked down the hall, pausing once to look in the window of Ms. Tebbit's door. The lights were off and the room empty. He tried to fight off the tears that he felt were coming. He felt horrible for calling Timothy a pansy.

He walked out of Morgan Hill, the sunlight hitting his eyes and making him squint, He saw Timothy up ahead, walking slowly, pushing his bicycle along next to him. "Hey, Timothy! Wait up." He sprinted across the school lawn and up to Timothy. "Are you alright, man?"

"I'll survive," he replied dismissively. "Why do you care?"

Jonathon was taken aback. "What do you mean? Why wouldn't I care?"

"Don't worry about it!" Timothy started walking faster. "You're no different."

"Why?" Jonathon picked up the pace. "Because I called you a pansy?"

"That might be part of it."

"I didn't mean anything by it. Honest. I was just trying to get him off of you."

Timothy looked over at him. "You took your time."

"I didn't know what to do. I admit. I was scared. I didn't want him to hurt you."

Timothy raised his eyebrows. "You didn't? Why?"

Jonathon breathed deeply. Now was his chance. Now was his opportunity to tell Timothy how he felt. "Because, Timothy. I don't want to see you in pain. I care too much about- "A horn interrupted him. They both spun around.

"Hey, Timmy. You want a ride?" a girl asked, pulling up next to them in an old truck.

"Sure, Frankie." Timothy looked at Jonathon. "What were you saying?"

Jonathon shrugged. He had lost his nerve. "Nothing. It wasn't important. I'll see you Monday."

Timothy walked his bike over to the truck, put it in the bed, and climbed in the truck next to the girl. Jonathon waved as they drove off into the distance. His head down, he turned around, and started off, walking in the direction of his own home, kicking a stone along the way, while a tear slid down his cheek.

**...**

_A/N- I wasn't sure how to end this one. Please let me know how you like it. The more reviews I get, the faster I will get the next chapter up. If you have any thoughts on where I should go with the next chapter, let me know. I may use your idea. Credit given where credit is due, of course. R/R_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Again, I apologize for the delay in this chapter. Work, once again, played a factor in it, but also, I wanted to do this chapter right. This is the first time we are going to stray completely away from the trail of the movie and start making this story work. I had to think about how to do this. I think I succeeded. _

_Also, for those of you who haven't figured this out yet, as one of my reviewers stated. This is not the movie. This is simply taking the characters out of the "safetynet" of the play, and the magic, and having Jonathon deal with his sexuality and his feelings for Timothy in a real life scenario. So, please. No more e-mails about how I should stick true to the tone of the movie. . Thanks!_

_Edit. This is a repost. Righted some wrongs and fixed a few errors. _

…

"Would you like some more potatoes?" Michelle Cordon asked, reaching for her son's plate. He handed it to her without complaint, keeping his head down, staring at the table. Across from him, his father cleared his throat.

"How's the team looking, Jon?"

"Fine, dad," he replied, taking his plate back from his mother and pouring gravy on the potatoes.

"Just fine? Nothing exciting happen today?" Paul eyed his son suspiciously.

"No more than usual," Jonathon replied casually.

"That's not what we hear."

Jonathon looked at his father, leaning over the table towards him. His father had the body of a well fit man gone slightly bad. His receding hairline was growing more pronounced every day. Jonathon knew, by this hairline, that his father was not happy. Whenever something didn't go according to his plan for Jonathon's life, a single, solitary wrinkle would form on his scalp. Jonathon couldn't take his eyes off of the wrinkle that was there at the present. "Why? What did you hear?"

"We got a phone call today. From your coach."

"Why didn't you tell us you got into a fight, dear?" Michelle asked, a worried note in her voice.

"I didn't! I stopped a fight from happening!"

That isn't what Driskill says. He told me that were involved from the beginning."

"That's not true!" Jonathon stood up, banging his fist on the table. "Cole and Cooper were bullying Timothy. I stepped in and tried to hold them back!"

His father rose. "Don't you dare take that tone with me, Jonathon! I sacrifice so much to put you through that school, and I'll be damned if all you are going to do with that time is fight!"

Jonathon laughed sarcastically. He could feel his temper rising. "Sacrifice? What are you sacrificing? The summer home in Miami? The yearly ski trips to Aspen? The Mercedes in the garage? Wow, dad! I was wrong. Here, I thought that we had it so easy. You sure showed me!"

"Jonathon!" Michelle spoke up. "Calm down! Why are you so worked up?"

He turned to look at his mother. "I refuse to sit here and be accused of something that didn't happen," he answered simply.

"Honey, no one is accusing you of anything. We just wanted to know what happened. That's all."

"I told you what happened. Coach must be confused, or something. I just stepped in to stop Timothy from getting hurt." He glared at his father. "That's the end of it." He sat back down and picked up his spoon and started to stir his potatoes absentmindedly.

Paul looked over at his son. "That's it? Bullying?" He sat back in his seat. "That's good of you to do, son. Stand up for those who cant stand up for themselves." He took a bite of his steak.

"That's not it. Timothy does stand up for himself. But it doesn't do any good. That just seems to make them go after him more."

"Why do they pick on this kid?" Michelle asked, sweeping a stand of her light brown hair behind her ear.

"Because he's gay."

Paul started coughing, choking on his steak. Michelle reached over and pounded on Paul's back until he regained control. "Gay? They were beating him only because he's gay?"

Jonathon looked up at his dad. Maybe his father understood. A feeling of hope was welling in his chest. His family had never spoken of homosexuality, and Jonathon didn't know his parents' view on the matter. It sounded at the moment, however, that his dad would be a tolerant man. "Yeah. No other reason."

Paul smirked. "Good for them! Maybe soon, those queers will stay in the closet where they belong." He drank the last sip of his coffee and reached for the pot. Jonathon fell silent. He stared at his plate, still loaded with mashed potatoes, and felt the warm feeling of hope turn into cold, bitter loneliness. "If that is why they were beating the crap out of him, why the hell did you stop them?"

Jonathon's head snapped up. "How could you even ask that?"

"He's a faggot. He needs to be taught a lesson."

"He's gay. So what? It doesn't make him a bad person!"

"I don't think the dinner table is the appropriate place for this discussion," Michelle interrupted. "Can we please just eat our meal in peace?"

"I'm full anyway. I am going to go for a walk." Jonathon pushed his plate away from him and walked out of the dining room. Feeling as low as he could ever remember feeling, he quickly slipped on his shoes and walked out the door. He didn't have a destination in mind and he didn't care. He just needed to walk. He couldn't believe his father had said those things. He wondered, briefly, if his father would have said that if he knew his own son was gay. Jonathon didn't think so. He remembered what Ms. Tebbit had said earlier that day. "Shallow-minded people will think what they are taught to think," he repeated out loud. He repeated his line in his head over and over again.

On he walked, paying no attention to his surroundings. He didn't stop until he came to a park. By the light of the setting sun, he saw people walking about; lovers strolling around the pond, holding hands and deep in conversation; families packing up after a fun day out.

Suddenly, he knew why he had come to this park. Somehow, subconsciously, he knew he would be here. He saw him then, sitting alone, under a tree, a book in his lap. His head was back, resting against the tree and his eyes were closed. Jonathon watched as Timothy slept. He wanted nothing more than to run to him; to confess how he felt. He wanted to be near him. This was his chance; his moment. There was no one else around. He searched himself for the courage, and slowly stepped towards Timothy, a plan formulating in his mind.

"Timothy?" he called as he reached him. "Timmy?" He gently reached out and shook Timothy's shoulder.

Timothy's eyes snapped open. "What? Where am I?" He bolted to a sitting position.

Jonathon chuckled. "Relax. You're fine. You're in the park," he answered truthfully. "You must have dozed off." He extended an arm. "Come on. I'll walk you home."

Timothy took the outstretched hand and felt himself being lifted off the ground. "Thanks. I probably would have been out here all night."

"I'm sure someone would have woke you up." Jonathon grinned.

"Look. I'm sorry about earlier. I just had a rough day and I wanted to get home."

Jonathon bent down and picked up Timothy's book. Handing it to him, he said, "It's fine. I completely understand." They started walking. "I do want you to know, though, that I am sorry for what happened."

"Why, though? You never cared before? Why such a sudden reversal?" Timothy looked up at him.

"I've always cared. I just cared more about my reputation than anything else."

"What does your rep have anything to do with me?"

Jonathon sighed. Here, at last, was the moment he had been waiting for. He stayed quiet for a few minutes, thinking of how to word it. He didn't speak until they turned the corner and were walking through town. "I figured, that if I stood up for you, people would think I was gay."

Timothy laughed. "That's it? That is the reason why you never came forward before? Why does it matter if people think you're gay. You aren't, and you know it. Your conscious is clear."

Jonathon started to shiver, which had nothing to do with the weather. "But, Timothy. That is it, exactly. I'm—"

"Oh! There's my mom!" Timothy waved. "Let's go!"

"What? Oh. No, thanks," Jonathon replied, once again losing his nerve. "I'll just talk to you later."

"Okay. Thanks for walking with me." Timothy dashed across the street and into a shop that his mother had just gone into.

Jonathon watched him go, feeling a mixture of relief and pain. He knew he had to tell him. He turned and started walking down the street in the opposite direction. A new plan was already forming in his mind, but he couldn't act on it until after the weekend. Smiling slightly at the thought of what could possibly happen at school Monday, he walked back home.

_**...**_

_A/N: Well, there you have it. A look into the home life of Jonathon Cordon. I will try to update this soon. As always. PLEASE R/R._


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Once again, I apologize for the delay. It's been very hectic. I moved again, and got a new job, and started a new relationship. My time has been pretty full lately. I want to thank you all for sticking with me through the long waits, and for the wonderful reviews you have given me. I want to start this next chapter off with a new disclaimer. Please, don't think I am doing this as a cheap way to get something going in this story. I have plans for this. Anyway, without further ado, here's the new disclaimer: I don't own a single insignificant part of "12 Angry Men." Used without permission, with all due respect, from Reginald Rose's play. (Don't worry. I won't be going into too much detail with the play. I'm just simply using it as a plot device. _

…_..._

As he approached the school bulletin board the next morning, he knew instantly that his plotting and pondering would pay off. All weekend long, Jonathon thought about what he was going to do to be able to talk to Timothy without interruption. He went through several different scenarios, until there was only one that seemed likely to work. It had to work. There was only one hitch. Ms. Tebbit might not have decided yet. He now knew she had. There, in the center of the board was a piece of green paper tacked into the cork. His lips curled into a smile as he read:

Auditions for the Senior play will take place Friday after school in the auditorium.

12 Angry Men

15 speaking roles

1 non-speaking role

Backstage crew needed as well.

Contact Ms. Tebbit for information

Jonathon wasn't an actor. He was an athlete. He has enough attention on him from the rugby team. He didn't really want more. The senior play, however, was mandatory, and it fit into his plans. He turned and briskly walked down the hallway towards Ms. Tebbit's classroom. He had a feeling that Ms. T. would help him get what he wanted, without stepping outside her role as an authority figure.

The door opened as he walked up to it, and Timothy walked out, looking relieved. He glanced at Jonathon as he passed, smiling slightly. Jonathon smiled back, hoping his smile would say what he couldn't, but Timothy kept walking, not looking back. Frowning, as though he knew his plan was already on the verge of failing, he walked into the classroom.

"Jonathon! Good morning to you." Ms. Tebbit greeted him with a wide smile. "How wonderful to see you. Have you come to sign up for the production?"

"Yes, and no. I was hoping.."

"No need to say more. You want to work behind the scenes." Ms. Tebbit interrupted him. "What were you thinking? Lights? Costumes? Set design?"

"I'm not sure." Jonathon glanced over his shoulder, at the closed classroom door. The plan was already formulated, but he didn't think of one possible hurdle. What was he supposed to sign up for? What did Timothy want to do with the production?

Ms. Tebbit seemed to, as always, read his thoughts. "I think you would do well with set design. It is a two-person committee. One person has already signed up for it."

"Who?"

Ms. Tebbit grinned. "That would be Mr. Prescott. He came in here just before you did, and requested a role backstage where he didn't have to work with a lot of people." Her grin faltered. "Poor Timothy. He feels as though he doesn't have a single friend in this school."

Jonathon swallowed hard. "He said that?"

"No, dear. It's all about the way he...well, anyone presents themselves. He is always distancing himself from others, and he always looks miserable. It's not hard to see that he feels alone." She gave Jonathon a knowing stare.

Jonathon's heart sank. He knew Timothy wasn't alone. And what was more, he knew that Ms. Tebbit knew this, as well. He silently cursed himself for being such a coward and letting Timothy deal with this on his own.

"So, Jonathon. Do you want to sign up for set design?"

Jonathon nodded, realizing that his plan, even though it was going the way he wanted it, was going to be harder than he ever imagined. "Yes. Sign me up." He turned to leave, but Ms. Tebbit stopped him.

"Just a forewarning, Mr. Cordon. The assigned seating will be changed today. Make sure to check the seating chart when you get here for class."

Jonathon nodded and walked out of the room. He walked slowly to his locker, to give himself some time to think about how he could let Timothy know that he was there for him, without ruining his own life; his own reputation.

…**...**

The day seemed to drag on for Jonathon. He was hoping he would have a chance to speak to Timothy during Gym, but Coach Driskill decided to start a new section today: basketball. Normally, Jonathon was excellent at the sport, but his mind wasn't on the game. He kept losing the ball, or missing easy shots, or failing to pass the ball. His attention was on Timothy, who was, as hard as he was trying, not managing to keep up with the rest of the class. He glanced over in time to see a member of the opposite team pass the ball to Timothy, who made a wild grab for it and caught it with the tips of his fingers. Jonathon smiled at the sight, and continued to watch Timothy as he turned, dribbling the ball, before being knocked down my Cole's broad shoulder.

Timothy fell hard to the ground, clutching his side, where the shoulder made contact. Forgetting himself, Jonathon rushed over to him. "Are you okay?"

Timothy looked up at him. "I'm fine." He slowly got to his feet as Driskill blew his whistle.

"Cordon! Keep your eyes on the game! Leave him be! Prescott! Walk it off!"

Jonathon shot the coach a dirty look, but turned his attention back onto the game. He gave Timothy a fleeting look of apology, and ran to the other end of the court, where Taylor had possession of the ball. Timothy came up behind him, still holding his side.

"Thanks for the concern." he whispered. He walked past and joined his team mates. Jonathon smiled to himself as he stole the ball and made a lay-up.

The game continued for another twenty minutes, until Coach Driskill, once again, blew his whistle. "Okay, boys! Shower up!" The class jogged to the locker room, with Timothy in the back. Jonathon quickly stripped out of his tee shirt and gym shorts and headed for the shower area. He turned on the water and felt the warmth stream down his body. He glanced over to his right, and seen Timothy using the shower next to him. As far back as he could remember, he had never once seen him in the showers. His eyes followed the flowing water down Timothy's body; down his chest, his stomach, and below. He had never seen a more beautiful sight. He wanted nothing more than to pull Timothy into his arms, press his lips to his, and confess his feelings for him.

The sound of laughing and snapping towels brought Jonathon out of his thoughts. He shook his head hard, clearing his mind, and turned off the water. He quickly dried himself off and headed back to the lockers.

"Are you okay?" Timothy came up to him, a towel wrapped around his waist. "You seem really put-off today."

"I'm okay. I just have a lot of things on my mind." He slipped on his jeans. "Can I walk with you to class?:

"Sure." Timothy got dressed and closed the locker next to Jonathon's, "I'll meet you in the hall." He walked out of the locker room.

Jonathon watched him go, grinning broadly. He pulled his shirt over his head and closed the locker, just as Cole stepped up to him, water still dripping from his wet hair.

"Hey, Cordon. Are you turning into a fruit?" He sneered. "Did you just ask the queer to walk to class with you?"

"Shut up, Cole." He turned and looked Cole in the eye. " We have to work together for the play. We have to discuss what we are going to do." He turned and walked to the door. "And lay off of him. He's a good guy." He walked out.

True to his word, Timothy waited just outside the gym doors. "Ready?" he asked as Jonathon walked up to him. The bell rang, signaling the official end of the period.

"Let's go." They walked together in silence. Jonathon wanted to speak, but didn't know what to say. He glanced over at Timothy and saw a small smile play across his lips. Those beautiful lips that he so desperately wanted to kiss. They turned a corner. "Timothy?"

"Hmm?"

Jonathon stopped walking. "I have to say something."

Timothy smiled. "It's fine. Ms. T. already told me."

Jonathon's mouth dropped open. "She did?"

Timothy laughed. "Yeah! She said you signed up for set design. I know you only did it because it's a do-nothing job. Don't worry. I'll get everything taken care of." Timothy turned and walked down the hall. "You coming?" he called over his shoulder. Jonathon hit himself on his forehead and walked down the hall behind Timothy.

When they entered Ms. Tebbit's class, the first thing Jonathon noticed was the new seating chart on the blackboard. He studied with, along with Timothy, looking for his name. It took him a couple seconds, but he found his name in the back row. He read the name on the desk next to his: Timothy Prescott. He smiled. He couldn't talk to Timothy, but at least he would be near him. He followed Timothy to their seats while the bell rang and Ms. Tebbit stood up from her desk.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I have a special treat for you today." Her gaze swept over the room. "As many of you know, auditions for the senior play are Friday. As such, I figured, for those of you who are unfamiliar with the source material, we could take a break from the learning and spend the nest two periods watching the movie. Just to give you an idea of what its about, and give those who want a part on stage an idea of what to expect." She walked over to the light switch. "I will advise you to take notes, however, for you will have an essay on the movie due on Thursday. It doesn't have to be anything special. Just tell me what you thought, and for extra fun, also tell me which part spoke to you the most. Consider this part of the audition process." She turned off the lights. "Enjoy!" She turned on the television that was placed in front of the room and the opening credits came on the screen.

Jonathon couldn't concentrate on the movie. His eyes stayed on Timothy. He was feeling a mix of emotions. He was happy, because he was so close to Timothy. He could reach out and touch him, if he could. He was depressed, because he knew how he felt about Timothy, yet couldn't do anything about it. He was scared, because of the thought of what would happen if anyone found out. The constant changing of emotions was giving him a headache. He laid his head on his desk and closed his eyes, just for a minute.

The sound of the bell startled him awake. Everyone was out of their chairs, gathering their books, or heading out the door. Jonathon stayed in his seat. He watched Timothy walk towards the front of the class, his brown bag slung over his shoulder. He stood there, talking to Ms. Tebbit for a few minutes, while the rest of the class filed out the door, followed shortly by Ms. Tebbit herself. Jonathon got up just as Timothy reached the door. It was now. He had to do it!

"Timothy!" he called. Timothy looked back.

"Yeah?"

Jonathon swallowed. "Do you want to do something tonight?"

"Sure. Come over. We can start on the sets!" Without waiting for a reply, Timothy swept out the door, leaving Jonathon alone in the classroom.

"That's not what I meant," Jonathon said sourly to himself. "That's not even close." He walked out of the classroom, closing the door behind him.

…_..._

_A/N: This was a bit rushed. I wanted to make it a bit longer than the other chapters and include a lot of stuff that has been swimming around in my head. I do hope you like. PLEASE R/R. _

_I will post the next chapter soon. I promise_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: I was considering not doing another chapter for this, considering only one person reviewed the last chapter. I mean, I know reviews aren't everything, but they do help motivate me to do another chapter. Then, I thought to myself, Who really cares. I am mainly doing this for myself. Not for anyone else. So, read this. Enjoy it. If you want to review it, please do. If not, don't I can't make you do it. And, if I stop this, I'll never know how it ends. LOL_

…_..._

Jonathon rang the doorbell and waited. He wasn't sure what would happen now that he was there. He knew that Timothy was expecting to start designing the sets for the school play, but Jonathon was hoping he might want to do more. He just wanted Timothy to know that he wasn't alone in this; that, even if he didn't know it, someone was there for him.

His thoughts were interrupted when a woman opened the door a crack. "Yes?" she asked through the opening.

"Er, my name is Jonathon. I am supposed to be meeting Timothy here."

The woman opened the door fully. "Of course. He's upstairs." She stepped aside to let him pass. Nodding his thanks, he walked past her and into the dimly lit family room. He heard the door close and the deadbolt slide into locking position. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thank you. Timothy and I have a lot of work to do." He smiled, and she gestured him through the small room into a hallway.

"Upstairs. Second door."

He climbed the stairs slowly, while running his speech over again in his mind. He knew he had to do it today. The thought of waiting another day to be near Timothy tore at his heart. He felt as though he would never be a complete person without him. He knew what he wanted to say. He had been practicing it for hours, hoping to get every word that he wanted to say exactly right. There could be no room for misinterpretation.

He waled up to the door and knocked lightly. Timothy's voice rang out. "Yeah?"

"It's Jonathon!" he called.

There was some shuffling noises coming from behind the door, and, a moment later, it swung open to reveal Timothy, beaming.

"Hey. Glad you found the place."

"It's not exactly as though you live in the middle of nowhere," Jonathon laughed. So, can I come in?"

Timothy smiled. "Oh, yeah. Right."

Jonathon stepped over the threshold into the smallest bedroom he had ever seen. A twin-sized bed was pushed against the wall, which were lined with posters of all sorts. A small walk-in closet was in the corner of the room, the beads hanging in the doorway swaying slightly in the soft breeze coming in from the open window. "Nice room," he said as he plopped down on the bed.

"Thanks," Timothy laughed. "I figure we could get the court room out of the way first. It's the least used." He pulled out a sketch pad from a small wooden desk that sat opposite the bed. He came and sat down next to Jonathon. "Then we will do the jury room. This is going to be so easy."

Jonathon chuckled. " You really think that? You think that just drawing a diagram and placing a few chars in specific places is going to be enough for Ms. T.? All our work will have to get final approval by her."

"That's true, but we have to build two sets on one stage. I am pretty sure she won't care how it looks, as long as it is in good taste, and no one's back is towards the audience." He picked up his pencil and drew a large rectangle. "So here is the stage, and the audience will be here. The divider between the sets will be here." He drew a thin line. "I know it not evenly divided, but majority of the play takes place in the jury room. That needs more space."

Jonathon's eyes slid out of focus. I need to tell him now, he thought. Before he gets too far into this. He cleared his throat as he stood up. "Timothy." Timothy looked up. Somewhere in the house, a phone rang. "I need to get something off of my chest. I've been trying to do it for days now, but I never get the chance. Something always interrupts."

Timothy looked him over. "Well, no one is interrupting now. What is it?"

"Well," Jonathon took a deep breath. "I have watched you. I've seen all the bullshit that you go through. It's not right."

"But you were one of them," Timothy pointed out.

"I know, and I am extremely sorry. But I am a different person now. I realized something, and you need to hear this. I was talking to Ms. T. last week, and she was able to help me understand what I was feeling. I realized why I always felt so bad when I hurt you, or when anyone else did. It's because I-"

The door swung open behind him.

"Sorry for interrupting. Timmy, honey. You are wanted at the door" Timothy's mother walked back downstairs.

"I'll be back," Timothy said as he rushed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Jonathon sighed as he let himself fall back onto the bed. "Why?" he said aloud to nobody. "Why can't people just let us be?" Frustration was building inside him. He punched one of Timothy's pillows, letting his anger out. He felt a warm tear slide down his cheek.

"You know," a cool, female voice said from the door," punching that pillow isn't going to solve anything."

Jonathon looked over and his eyes took in the sight of the girl in the door. Her shoulder-length brown hair was tied in a ponytail. Her clothes looked home-made, She had a smile on her face. "What do you know about this?"

Her smile widened. "I know your in pain. And I know I'm an excellent listener." She held out her hand. "I'm Frankie. Let's go take a walk."


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: This is a quick chapter, mainly to let all my readers know I haven't forgotten about you. In June, my motherboard fried. I still haven't been able to get it replaced. But I don't want you guys to feel like I abandoned the story, so right now, I am at the library, doing this up so you guys will know I am still alive! As usual, REVIEW! I love reading your reviews._

…

"**I just don't know how to tell him," Jonathon said as he slowed down his pace to allow Frankie to catch up. "Every time I try, something happens that stops it. I am actually happy about that , though. I want to tell him how I am feeling, but when I get that chance, I start feeling so sick." He kicked a pebble down the park sidewalk. **

"**It sounds to me like you guys just need to be locked in a room together, where no one can get in…or out," Frankie replied, a smile on her face.**

**Jonathon let out a chuckle. This actually felt nice. He needed someone to talk to about what he was going through. Sure, he had Ms. Tebbitt, but it wasn't the same as another person, his own age, who could possibly relate. He wasn't sure how she could help him, but it was nice just to get this stuff off his chest.**

"**I don't think that would be worth it. I just want to be able to tell him, and, if it doesn't go as well as I want it to, I can run."**

**Frankie smiled. "I think it will go better than you could imagine."**

**He looked at her. "Why do you say that?"**

"**Timothy is a romantic. I love him to death, but he does seem to live in his own little world sometimes. If you want my advice, you need to do something over the top to get his attention, romantically. I mean, you are a good looking guy, and, if I wasn't trying to get with Max, and you weren't gay, I would jump all over you."**

**His cheeks darkened as he smiled, embarrassed. "What do you mean, over the top?"**

**Frankie stopped and sat on a bench next to the pathway. " I mean, you need to do something to show that you really want to be with him. Sweep him off his feet. Prove to him that you love him."**

**Jonathon sprawled himself out on the grass, thinking. He didn't know what he could do. "An example?" he asked.**

**Frankie shook her head. "I can't tell you that. It's something you need to figure out for yourself." She stopped talking as her cell rang. She held up a finger, and answered the phone.**

**He flipped over onto his stomach and stared off into the wooded area behind them, lost in thought. He knew one thing that could get Timothy's attention, but he wasn't very comfortable with coming out of the closet yet. He had to do something that would get Timothy to notice him, without endangering himself. **

**As he stared off into the woods, shafts of sunlight filtered through gaps in the foliage, a flash of purple caught his attention. He looked over his shoulder. Frankie was still talking on the phone. He got up and walked to the edge of the trees. Looking around in the dim light, he spotted a single purple flower, that he didn't recognize, growing at the base of a tall oak tree. He reached out for it, when he heard Frankie call for him. He turned around and ran back to her, thinking about the strange flower.**


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: I apologize for the shortness of the last chapter. I just posted that so you guys didn't think I forgot about you. Just needed to post an update to let my faithful readers know what was going on. On the plus side, my computer is back. So I can hopefully post more often. Just remember to review. It makes my day to see how you are all enjoying the story. Thinking about posting my original work somewhere. When I figure that out, I will let you all know where it will be at so you can check it out! Anyway, on to this chapter._

…_..._

Timothy was waiting near the road as Jonathon and Frankie walked up. "It would be nice if you would tell me if you were taking off with my guests," he said to Frankie.

"You know me. I am a nosy bitch. I have to involve myself with you and your life," she replied with a smile on her face. "You still love me."

"Max was here looking for you."

Frankie's smile widened. "How long ago?"

"Shortly before I called."

She turned to look at Jonathon. "Remember what I said. It will happen. Trust me." She gave him a wink as she ran towards her truck. "Talk to you later, Timmy!" she called back.

As the boys stood on the side of the road and watched Frankie's truck speed around the corner, Jonathon slowly inched closer to Timothy. He didn't know exactly what Frankie had meant by doing something over the top to show Timothy his love for him. There were several ways he could take that. Was he supposed to just surprise him with a kiss? Confess his love in front of a crowd? Those things were over the top, in Jonathon's opinion, but they weren't really what he would call romantic.

"Lets go back inside," Timothy broke into Jonathon's thoughts. "It's a bit cold."

Jonathon shrugged and followed him back in the house, up the stairs and to his bedroom. He sat down on the bed as Timothy closed the door. "Timothy? Could I ask a personal question?"

Timothy sat down in the chair at his desk. "Sure. What's on your mind?"

"How did you know?"

"How did I know what?" Timothy asked, puzzled.

Jonathon swallowed hard. "That you...that you're gay." There, he thought to himself. At least the topic is out in the open.

"Why are you asking?" Timothy's eyes narrowed.

Jonathon had to hold his hands in his lap to make sure Timothy didn't see them shaking, due to his nervousness. "Just a curiosity," he replied, keeping his voice as calm as he could manage.

Timothy seemed to relax a little as he took a breath. "I don't really know how to explain it. It was just something I felt. I felt different than all the other boys."

"What do you mean, you felt different?"

"Well, in the bathroom, the boys would always talk about seeing girls naked, and how bad they wanted it, but I didn't care about it. I always found my mind wandering, thinking about what they might look like naked."

"Were you ashamed"

"At first, yes. Then I realized I can't change it, so I accepted it."

"What did your parents think when you told them?"

"Mom...well, mom's still struggling with it, but she shows her acceptance however she can. My father, or as I call him, my sperm donor, he left. He said that he couldn't have a queer son and left my mom because she wouldn't toss me out on the street. I actually lived with Frankie for a while, so I wouldn't be the cause of their divorce. It happened anyway, and mom begged me to come back home." Tears welled up in his eyes. "We don't really talk about him anymore. He doesn't call or visit. He's dead to me."

"I'm sorry," was all Jonathon could say. He thought back to the confrontation he had with his father during dinner the other night. Timothy didn't know it, but he could relate. He could see the look on his father's face if he ever told him he was gay.

Timothy stood up. "It's fine. That part of my life is done and over with," he wiped a tear from his cheek with his finger. "I'm hungry. You want anything?"

Jonathon lied across the bed. "Sure," he answered, even though his stomach was in knots. "Bring me what you got." He closed his eyes as the door shut behind Timothy.

He felt scared, and relieved at the same time. Timothy now knew he was curious about being gay. He didn't know if Timothy was going to get the subtle hint, but he did know that it didn't matter, in the end. According to Frankie, it wouldn't be enough to get Timothy's attention.

He sat up, a few minutes later, when the door opened. He looked, expecting to see Timothy carrying in a plate of cookies or something. What he saw instead made his jaw drop.

Timothy closed the door and turned around, wearing nothing but a pair of tight, silvery briefs. Smiling, he walked slowly up to Jonathon.

"What are you doing?" Jonathon asked as Timothy put his hands on his shoulders.

"I'm not as stupid as you think I am, Jonathon Cordon. I could easily see what you were doing."

Jonathon looked at him in confusion. "What are you talking about." Timothy sat down on his lap. Jonathon's muscles stiffened as he felt his jeans grow a little tighter.

"Asking me about how I knew I was gay. You're too scared to admit it to anyone, but you are gay, aren't you?"

Jonathon shuddered as he felt Timothy's hands caress his back. "God, I love you Timothy," he panted.

"I know you do," Timothy took Jonathon's right hand and placed it on his chest. "Go ahead. Don't be afraid. Touch me."

Jonathon slowly moved his hand across Timothy's chest and down his stomach. He felt Timothy shiver with longing. Timothy's hand went up to his hair, where his fist grabbed a fistfull of his hair. Tilting his head back, Timothy leaned in, gently brushing his lips against Jonathon's. The feel of their lips meeting sent a tingling sensation down his spine and into his pants.

Timothy pulled away and stood up. He turned to face Jonathon, and with a grin on his face, pushed him back onto the bed. Jonathon inhaled deeply as Timothy climbed on top of him, feeling his body press against his own. He embraced Timothy, pulling him tighter against him.

Timothy once again pressed his lips to Jonathon's. Feeling a odd sense of power, Jonathon let his hands wander around Timothy's back; rubbing and caressing him. His hands slid lower, until his fingertips were under Timothy's waistband.

"Jonathon!" Timothy moaned as he poked Jonathon in the shoulder. "Jonathon! Jonathon! Jon!"

Jonathon snapped to attention. Looking around, he noticed Timothy next to him, fully dressed, holding a plate of sandwiches, and poking him in the shoulder. "Jonathon, are you okay?"

Jonathon sat there in silence for a moment, looking Timothy over. "Yeah, but I need to go." He jumped off the bed and ran out the door before Timothy could reply.

…...

_A/N: I am sure I just pissed a lot of you off with that little daydream. We have to remember though, that, like Timothy, Jonathon is prone to daydreams as well. So, I hope you enjoyed. Please R/R!_


	11. Inner Monolouge

_A/N: This isn't actually a chapter. Consider it more of an excuse to post something that will give you insight into what Jonathon is thinking, as well as a chance to let you know what has been happening, and why it has been taking so long to get a chapter up. _

_As you know, I had some computer troubles, but I had got them fixed...or so I thought. No sooner did I get my PC back up and running, then it crashed again, and I was without PC access for a while. Now, thanks to my dear and very close friend, Tony, I am able to start this up again, hopefully without any more computer issues. _

_As for what this post is...this is Jonathon's innermost thoughts. Given what you already know, this will shed some light as to why Jonathon is so scared to fully come out of the closet. Hope this helps you understand the character even more._

…...

What am I going to do? I feel so torn right now. I love him with everything. I wish things weren't so complicated. It feels like I am spiraling down some dark cavern of loneliness. I have no one I can talk to about this, Cole and Cooper would never understand. My parents...might as well just forget about that. I can never get Timothy alone to talk to him. There has to be an easy way out of this.

There is such a heavy weight on my shoulders. My mind can't concentrate on anything except how I am feeling. I don't know how long I can keep this inside before it bursts out. I am only 17. I shouldn't have to worry about things like this. I should be out having fun with my friends. Going on meaningless dates with girls. I should be being a normal teenager. Instead, I am ripping my hair out because of this stress.

When did love and romance become so complicated? It never has before. But, then again, I was lying to myself all these years. Wait! That's it! That's the problem. I'm still lying. Not to myself, but to everyone else. But am I ready for the consequences of doing what I dream of doing? The harassment? The pain? I won't have to do it alone, though. I will have Timothy to help me...to support me. But how can I do it? My parents would disown me. My friends would treat me just like they treat Timothy, if not worse. Coach would probably cut me from the team. My whole life could be ruined. Can I really take that chance?

Maybe I am just over-thinking things. Maybe everyone will be cool with it? Why do I feel that that's not going to happen? I don't know how long I can handle keeping this to myself. I have to tell someone! Anyone!

…...

_A/N: This was short, but as I said, it was just something to let you know I am still here. I also wanted to add, that I do my own stuff as well as fanfiction. I am thinking of posting my original work on that other website they talk about on here. IF you guys would like to read some original stuff, let me know in the reviews!_


	12. Chapter 11

_A/N: Just a quick note to let you know I have made an account over at .com and am posting my original work there. If you want to read it, there's a link on my profile, here, to take you to my profile there. If you like my writing for this fanfic, then I can guarentee you will enjoy my original work. Please, go and subscribe to me over on . And, of course, R/R this chapter._

…...

Jonathon closed the door behind him as he walked into the foyer of his house. He kicked off his shoes and walked dejectedly into the living room, where his parents sat, watching the news. His mother looked up from her recliner in the corner and smiled at him in greeting. Jonathon halfheartedly returned the smile as he sat on the loveseat near the wall.

"You had a call while you were out," Michelle said. "Someone named Timothy."

He looked up quickly. "Did he leave a message?"

Michelle shook her head. "He just told me to have you call him back when you got home."

Jonathon looked at his watch. "What time did he call?"

"Not even ten minutes ago."

"Could you two be quiet? I'm trying to watch the news," Paul growled from the sofa, where he was sprawled out, his feet hanging over the end.

"Sorry, dad," Jonathon turned his attention to the television, where the news anchor was shuffling papers in front of him.

"And on the national front, New York has legalized gay marriage today. It makes them the sisth state to allow same-sex marriage in the country."

"Christ," Paul muttered under his breath.

"What?" Jonathon looked over.

"Fucking fags are getting married. What next?"

Jonathon stared at his father. "So what? They deserve to be happy as any straight couple does, don't they?"

Paul sat up and looked at his son. "Hell, no! It is just wrong what they are doing! Next thing you know, they are going to start allowing the damn queers to adopt kids! Think about it, Jon. Those sickos touching those poor kids that they 'adopt' in order to give them a 'good home'." Paul raised his fingers and used air quotations to emphasize his point. "It's disgusting!"

Jonathon blinked back tears. Steading his voice, he responded, "That is not true. They are no different than us. They didn't chose that life. Why would anyone willingly choose to live their life in a way that will get this hurt?"

Paul scowled. "Because they're fucked up in the head. That's why." He paused. "And so are the people who support such disgusting behavior!"

Michelle's head snapped up. "Paul! That's enough!

Paul rounded on her. "No, it's not, Michelle! The boy has to learn what is right in this world, and what is wrong!"

Jonathon had heard enough. He bolted from the room, tears streaming down his face. He ran up the stairs and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Collapsing in sobs on his bead, he wrapped his arms around his pillow and held it against his chest. He buried his face into it and screamed until his throat started to hurt. He finally knew the truth. His father hated him. The pain was bubbling inside him, making his stomach churn. He cried even more as the thoughts about what his father would do, if he ever found out that Jonathon was gay, ran through his head.

There was a knock on his door, and it opened a few inches, letting a sliver of light from the hall into his darkened room. "Jonathon, honey? Are you okay?"

"Go away, mom!" he shouted between sobs. He buried his face in his pillow once again. He heard the door close and footsteps move closer. He felt his mother's weight on the bed, as she sat down and placed a hand comfortingly on his back.

"Shh. It will be okay, baby," she whispered.

He turned his head to look at her in the dark. "How could he say things like that?"

His mother reached down and wiped the tears off of his face. "That's the way he was raised. He doesn't know any better.

"He's a grown man. He can make up his own mind."

"That's true. However, if you have lived your whole life believing in one thing, it's hard to start believing in the exact opposite." She smiled. "Don't worry, Jonathon. We will help him to understand."

"What do you mean, 'we'?"

"I know, Jonathon."

"Know what?"

She took a breath. "I know the truth." She stroked his hair in the darkness. "About you."

He froze. What did she just say? He remained quiet, and let his mother caress him.

"I have known for quite a while. A mother knows these things." She sat back as Jonathon sprang up from the bed and wrapped his arms around her. She returned the embrace, feeling the wetness on his chin against her neck. "It's okay, honey. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

He pulled back and looked at her. "Mom. I'm gay." He burst into renewed sobs. "I'm so sorry I let you down."

"You didn't! I still love you with all my heart. You being gay will never change that. You are my son, and always will be!" She felt her own tears falling down her cheeks. She pulled him back to her and hugged him again. "I will always love you, no matter what you do, or who you are."

He sobbed into her shoulder. Tears of relief; of happiness. It felt so good to finally be able to tell someone he cared about the truth. "There's more, mom. I think I'm in love."

She nodded. "I know. With Timothy."

He looked at her, shocked. "How did you know?"

"The way you acted when I told you he called. The look in your eyes. As I said, a mother knows these things." She grinned. "So, is he your boyfriend?"

"Mom!" Jonathon's cheeked reddened. Michelle laughed. "No, mom. I want to be with him, but he doesn't know." He hung his head. "No one knows," he added in an undertone.

"Is he the one guy you were standing up for the other day, when you got in that fight?"

"Yeah. That's Timothy."

Her smile widened. "Well, that's settled then, isn't it. You're gay. He's gay. Just tell him."

Jonathon frowned. "It isn't that easy. You heard what dad said. People don't like people like me. If him and I start dating, the whole school will know. I could be kicked off the team. I could end up being treated worse than Timothy already is."

"Or," Michelle held his face in her hands and stared into his eyes, "you could be the one to change their views on it, being the star athlete you are." Jonathon managed a small smile. "That's better. Now why don't you get some sleep."

"But what about dad?" Jonathon asked as he laid down.

"What he doesn't know won't kill him." She smiled as she bent down and kissed her son's forehead. "Good night, Jonathon." She walked out of the room, closing the door gently behind her.


	13. Chapter 12

_A/N: Again, I apologize for the delay. I have been feeling depressed and lazy the last couple months. I do promise to try to keep up, but please don't hold it against me. Some bad times have hit and I just stopped writing completely. But I am back, and working on my issues and hope I can keep this up! Anyway, on to the chapter! And, as always. R/R._

…**...**

The rest of the week flew by as Jonathon found someone to talk to about his hidden feelings. His mother's reaction took him by surprise, but he was extremely glad that he now had her to turn to. For the past few days, he and his mother had talked about everything. He told her about Timothy and his feelings for him. She had told him that she had faith in him, and that if he truly loved Timothy, then it will happen.

As he walked through the front doors of Morgan Hill, a frantic Timothy grabbed his arm and pulled him off to the side of the hallway. "What's wrong?" Jonathon asked.

"Ms. T. posted the cast list," his breathing heavy. "And the deadlines for the backstage jobs."

"When is our stuff due?"

"Today by 3!" "

"Timothy!" Jonathon grabbed his shoulders. "You need to calm down. What are we supposed to be handing in?"

Timothy took a deep breath, calming himself. "Today, we at least need a drawing, or a diagram of the set. Just the general layout."

Jonathon smiled. That won't be that big of a deal. We can work on it at lunch. Meet me in the library?"

Timothy shook his head. "That won't work. We have done absolutely nothing. We need more time."

Jonathon leaned against the lockers, thinking. Was this his chance? Could he get Timothy alone, with no interruptions? An idea formed. "The solution is simple." Timothy's eyebrows raised in question. "Let's ditch."

"Ditch? That will get us suspended."

A sly smile spread across Jonathon's lips. "If we are suspended, then we get an extension on the project anyway. If we don't get caught, we will at least have it done and ready to hand into Tebbit at 3." He watched as Timothy thought it over. Jonathon knew he would do it. He just had to. He leaned in closer to Timothy. "You know you want to," he whispered in Timothy's ear. "Just you and me. No interruptions." He pulled back. "We could get it done in just a couple hours, and be back in time for lunch."

Timothy cheeks turned to scarlet as he smiled. "Fine. Let's do it. But where do we go?"

Jonathon's smiled wavered. He hadn't thought of that. "I don't know. Any suggestions?"

Timothy opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, a voice called out his name behind him. Timothy spun around to see Ms. Tebbit striding up to them, her red hair in a loose bun on the top of her head.

"Timothy, dear. I was hoping I could have a word."

"Sure, Ms. T."

"I am sure you seen the cast list and deadlines I posted this morning?" She smiled, knowing the answer even before he gave it.

"I did."

"How's the set coming along?"

Timothy swallowed. "Pretty good."

Ms. Tebbit gazed into Timothy's eyes. "Wonderful! Can I possibly have a peek?"

Timothy shifted his gaze down to the floor, studying the his shoelaces. Jonathon spoke up. "Sorry, Ms. T. Not yet. We have to make a couple tweaks before it's ready."

Her eyes flashed up to Jonathon's "Fantastic, Jonathon. I am so glad you guys are taking this seriously." Her gaze went back to Timothy. "The real reason I wanted to talk to you, though, Timothy, is to ask a...well, a personal favor."

"Sure. What is it?" Timothy looked into her eyes.

"I know you said you wanted to be strictly backstage, but I was hoping you would consider being an understudy."

"For which part?"

"Juror 8."

"That's is a pretty big part."

Jonathon piped up. "Who has the part?"

Timothy looked over his shoulder at Jonathon. "Your buddy Cooper," he said with obvious disdain in his voice. He looked back at Ms. Tebbit. "I really am not an actor."

"That's the beauty of it," Ms. Tebbit said. "You only go on if Cooper, for whatever reason can't." A knowing grin spread across her face. "And, if you are serious about doing it, I can talk to Dr. Bellinger and explain the situation. That would give you all of today to work on memorizing your lines," A pause, then Ms. Tebbit added, with a slight smirk, "without punishment." She looked back at Jonathon. "And you would help him, I assume?"

Timothy and Jonathon glanced at each other. Jonathon smiled. "Sure, Ms. T. I'd be happy to help."

"Wonderful! You two are such angels!" Her face turned serious. "First read-through is today after school. Jonathon, you are welcome to attend and listen. It would most likely help you understand the story and be able to help Timothy memorize his lines."

"Looking forward to it," Jonathon replied, a smile plastered on his face.

Ms. Tebbit pointed towards the door. "Well, get going then." She turned and started to stroll away, when she stopped and looked over her shoulder. "And do finish the stage setup plans while your at it." She winked and walked down the hall, leaving the two boys in stunned silence.

After a few minutes, Timothy broke the silence. "Well, we are excused, so we don't have to hide. Let's go to the park!"

Jonathon smiled. "Sure. Do you have the stuff we need to do the set design?" Timothy holds up a purple folder, and suddenly, an image of the purple flower in the park flashes through Jonathon's mind. "Let's go then." They turn and walk out of the school.

Jonathon leaves his car at the school and they walk together to the park in silence. Jonathon lifts his face up as a warm breeze wafts across their path. When they reached the park, the crossed the lawns and sat under the large willow tree in the center. With the branches hanging right to the ground, they were alone and away from the passers-by walking through the park.

Timothy opened up the folder and took out a large piece of drawing paper, folded in quarters. As Timothy unfolded the paper, Jonathon realized Timothy wasn't exaggerating when he said they had nothing. All that was on the paper was a rectangle, representing the stage in the gymnasium, and its measurements. "Looks like we have a lot of work to do," he said as he laid down on his stomach across the cool grass. Timothy spread the paper in front of him, and leaned over it.

"There are two main sets. The courtroom and the Jury room. Most of the action takes place in the Jury room, so that has to be the primary focus." He pulled a pencil out of his pocket. "It has to be larger than the courtroom." He drew a line down about through the rectangle about three-quarters from the left. "That's the courtroom," he pointed to the smaller rectangle. "And the other is the Jury room."

"The only furniture we need are a long table and a dozen chairs." He pointed to the center of the larger rectangle. "Nothing fancy. We could probably get one of the cafeteria tables. I'm sure Ms. T. can swing that."

For the next hour, they sat under the tree, drawing in the set. It was a long, boring process, but Jonathon was happy to be there. He finally got Timothy alone like he wanted. He wiped his sweating palms on his jeans and moved closer. "It looks good," he said as Timothy finished drawing the jury box in the courtroom. "Does this mean we are finished?"

"For now, but we have to come up with the sets themselves. I mean, we don't have to build them. Ms. Tebbit has another team for that. But we have to come up with the rest. The table and chairs, and anything else that is used as part of the set."

Jonathon sat up and brushed grass off of his shirt. He crawled over to the trunk of the tree and leaned against it, closing his eyes. "We don't have to do that now, though, do we?"

Timothy folded up the paper, placed it in the folder, and walked over to Jonathon. "No, but it wouldn't hurt to be prepared." He sat down next to Jonathon. Taking a deep breath, he glanced over. "What happened the other day?"

"The other day?"

"When you were at my place, and you ran off. Why did you leave?"

"Oh." The daydream Jonathon had had ran quickly through is mind. "I wasn't feeling that well," he lied, feeling his courage seep out of him. "I didn't want to get you or your mother sick." He spread his legs out in front of him and put his hands on the grass. "I am sorry if I scared you, though."

Timothy smiled and moved a little closer. "You did scare me a little. When I got back with the food, you were just sitting there, staring off into space. I thought you were having a breakdown or something. It was kind of freaky." He put his hand down next to him, brushing Jonathon's. Jonathon felt the small touch and smiled. The courage was back and flowing swiftly through his body. He placed his hand on top of Timothy's.

"Timothy. I have to be honest with you."

"It is a nice day out, isn't it?" Timothy asked, looking up, even though he couldn't see the sky.

"Yes, but Timothy, I have to tell you something."

"Do you think Cooper is going to get sick or something?"

"I don't know, but would you-" he was cut short when Timothy suddenly leaned over and planted his lips on Jonathon's. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity to Jonathon. It was what he has been dreaming off for ages. It was finally happening. He finally forced himself to kiss Timothy back, when Timothy, just as fast as he started, pulled away.

"Oh, my god!. I am so sorry!" Timothy cried, his face such a deep shade of red it must have hurt. "I didn't mean-"

"No!" Jonathon shouted. "It's fine!"

"I have to go," Timothy said, a tear sliding down his cheek. He sprang up and ran, not looking back.

Jonathon sat there for what felt like hours; in shock, in pain. Confusion was his only emotion. Had that really just happened? Why did Timothy run away? That was the most amazing kiss Jonathon had ever had. He desperately wanted it again.

Shaking his head slowly, he got to his feet, and noticed the purple folder laying on the ground. He picked it up and started the lonely walk back to Morgan Hill.


	14. Chapter 13

"Hello?" a voice answered.

"Frankie?" Jonathon pulled his cell phone away from his ear and looked at the screen, to make sure he dialed the right number.

"Yeah. What's up?"

"Is Timothy there? I called his number, right?"

"Yeah, but he doesn't want to talk to you."

"But what did I do?"

Frankie sighed. Hold on." Jonathon heard a door close and footsteps on stairs. A few minutes later, Frankie spoke again. "You didn't do anything."

Jonathon was confused. "Then why doesn't he want to talk to me?"

"He's scared. He told me what happened. He is completely fucked out of his mind because he thinks you hate him now."

Jonathon's voice broke. "Did you tell him the truth?"

"Jonathon, it is not my place to do that. You need to tell him yourself."

"How can I, if he won't talk to me?"

"You have to make him listen to you." There was a pause as Frankie let her words sink in.

Jonathon hung up the phone and sat back down on the grass. He had to do it. He had to tell Timothy how he felt. He had to let him know that he didn't hate him. He looked at the spot to the right of him, where Timothy had sat. He wanted more than anything for him to be back there.

He slowly got to his feet again. He walked out from under the branches of the willow tree and started for him. He barely looked over at the faint flicker of purple in the line of trees to his right. He broke into a jog, trying to keep his breathing stready. As he reached the edge of the park, he broke into a sprint, with only one direction in mind.

…...

He stopped running in front of Timothy's house. Dance music was drifting down from an open window on the second floor, the drapes fluttering slightly in the light breeze. He walked up the driveway, past Frankie's beat-up pickup truck and knocked on the screen door. A few minutes passed before Frankie appeared, looking out the mesh of the screen.

"Where is he?" Jonathon asked.

"Upstairs."

"Can you tell him that I am here?"

"I don't think it will make a difference. He is up there crying. He really wanted your friendship, if nothing else."

"That's just it. He can have it...and more!" Jonathon cried, exasperated. "That is what I want to tell him."

Frankie sighed. "That is Timothy's problem. He thinks everyone is against him. He even acts this way with Donna."

"Who's Donna?"

"His mother. His father left a couple years ago, after he came out. He blames himself for it. He feels that since his father left, that no one actually cares about him."

"But you do."

Frankie nodded. "He knows that. I am pretty much the only person he believes he has that is on his side. It's sad, really. That is why you need to tell him. No. You need to convince him of your feelings."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"I already told you. It has to be something big and romantic to get his attention. Use your head. You will think of something, I'm sure."

"Frankie!" Jonathon heard Timothy's voice call. "Get back up here!" Jonathon's heart ached when he heard the pain in Timothy's voice.

Frankie looked back over her shoulder. "I got an idea. Come in, but be quiet." She held open the screen door and stepped aside to let Jonathon inside. "Follow me. Stay completely quiet and listen. Don't say a word, no matter what you hear."

Jonathon nodded and followed quietly behind Frankie as she walked through the house, up the creaking stairs and to the second story landing. She pointed to the wall next to the first door on the left. She put her finger to her lips and pointed again at the wall. Jonathon tiptoed over to the wall and stood there. Frankie smiled and opened the door to Timothy's bedroom.

"Who was it?" Timothy asked.

"Oh. It was Nora Fay, looking for Donna." Jonathon heard the bed squeak as Frankie sat on it. "So, I still don't understand why you are so upset. You kissed him. Isn't that what you wanted to do?"

"I wanted it, but he didn't."

"How do you know that?"

"He is straight. He has a girlfriend." Jonathon stiffened. What was he going to do about Becky? The conversation on the other side of the wall brought his attention back.

"Hasn't he stuck up for you when some of the rugby players were harassing you?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Well, maybe hes gay-friendly. Maybe you should talk to him and explain what happened."

Timothy sighed deeply. "What happened is that I assulted him."

Frankie chuckled. "Assulted? That's a strong word, isn't it? You just kissed him."

"And kissing a straight guy is assult."

Jonathon smiled as he heard Frankie laugh out loud. "Why are you so worried about this?"

"Because he is the star rugby player. The big man on campus. How do you think other people are going to feel about the resident queer being in love with him?"

Jonathon's face felt hot. Had he heard him right? Frankie seemed to be reading his thoughts. "What did you say?"

"You heard me, Frankie." There was renewed sobbing. "I love him. I love Jonathon Cordon."

Jonathon heard enough. He slowly climbed down the stairs, stepping over the creaking steps. He hurriedly rushed out of the house and ran towards the school to get his car. One thought kept swimming to the front of his mind. Timothy loved him. Timothy wanted to be with him. Jonathon's face hurt from smiling so much.

…...

_A/N: Yes, this was a short chapter. As you can probably tell, it is reaching it's conclusion. If you want more Timothon, please R/R and let me know. I have so many more ideas. _


	15. Chapter 14

Jonathon walked into Ms. Tebbit's classroom just as the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Ms. Tebbit smiled at him from over the top of the book she held. "How did it go?" she asked, a gentle teasing in her voice.

He frowned. "Not so well," his voice sounded sad and disappointed.

"Did you not finish the assignment?"

Jonathon shook his head. "Oh. Yeah. It's done." He pulled out the crumpled folder from his bag and handed it to Ms. Tebbit.

She studied the drawing carefully. "It looks wonderful, Jonathon. You and Timothy did a marvelous job." She stopped suddenly and looked around. "Where is Timothy?"

"He said he wasn't feeling well, so he went home," Jonathon lied quickly. He knew that Ms. Tebbit knew about his feelings, but he wasn't comfortable discussing them so openly yet. He sat down behind an empty desk and put his head in his hands. Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind.

"Are you all right?" Ms. Tebbit asked?

"I'm fine. I am just a little winded from running all the way here." He heard Ms. Tebbit shuffling papers on her desk.

He looked up as the classroom door opened. Timothy walked in, a nervous look on his face. One hand was stuffed into his pocket. The other hand was held behind his back. He walked slowly up to Jonathon. He said nothing. He just stood there, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Well, hello, Timothy. I am glad to see that you are feeling well again." Ms. Tebbit stood up from her chair. "If you gentlemen would excuse me. I have to take your stage design to the auditorium, so they can start preparing." She walked out of the classroom, closing the door behind her.

"Jonathon?" Timothy whispered.

"Timothy...I-"

"No," Timothy interrupted. "It was my fault. I just did what felt right. I should have asked or something. I know you aren't gay. I just...well, I have feelings for you. I just wanted you to know. I will leave you alone now." Timothy turned to leave.

"Wait!" Jonathon called. He jumped up from his chair and spun Timothy around. "You are wrong!"

A puzzled look flashed over Timothy's face. "Wrong about what?" 

"About me being gay," Jonathon blurted. All at once, it felt as though a large, overpowering weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "I am gay. And there's more." He smiled. "I love you, Timothy. I have loved you for so long." He threw his arms around Timothy's neck and pulled his body into his own. He felt Timothy wrap his arms around him and squeeze him tightly.

The hug lasted briefly, however, before Timothy pushed Jonathon away. "Hold on." He said. "Is this some kind of joke? Are you and your jock friends trying to figure out new ways to torture me?"

Jonathon was taken aback. "No!" He protested. "Of course not!"

A smile played across Timothy's lips. "If are are sincere, then, take this from me. I found this in the park and I wanted to give it to you as an apology. Now, I want to give it to you as a symbol of my feelings for you." He took his hand out from behind his back and placed a purple flower into jonathon's hand. Jonathon stared at it. It was the same flower he had spotted days earlier. He beamed.

"Timothy. I love it!" He, once again, pulled Timothy in close, but this time, he didn't hug him. He pressed his lips against Timothy's, feeling as though, after all this time, he was whole.

A door slammed, bringing Jonathon back to reality. He rubbed his eyes and looked towards the door. Ms. Tebbit was standing there. "Good," she said. "You have been asleep for nearly an hour. I appreciate you bringing in the assignment, but you don't have detention. You didn't need to stay after." She smiled.

"I'm sorry, Ms. T. I guess I am just kind of tired." He stood up, looking around, hoping to see Timothy, or, at the very least, a purple flower petal. There was nothing.

"It's quite okay, Jonathon. But I was hoping you could do me a small favor. After all, I did allow you to skip school today."

"Sure, Ms. T. What do you need?"

"I just got off the phone with Cooper. He fractured his leg during practice. He will be unable to take part in the play. Could you please go and let Timothy know that he will be needed to go on in Cooper's stead?"

"Umm. Sure. I can do that."

"Wonderful! Thank you, Jonathon." She sat down at her desk and looked at him. "You may go now."

"Sure thing." He got up and walked out the door.

He climbed into his car. He didn't feel like running all the way back to Timothy's. As he left Morgan Hill's parking lot, only one object was in his mind. The purple flower. Before he went to Timothy's, he was gonna make a pitstop at the park.

…...

_A/N: I know it has been a few months since I updated. I just wanted to write a quickie to let you all know that I am still working on this. However, this is nearly complete. If you want more after this is finished, say so in the reviews. If you want to read my Original work, Send me a message and I will link you to my Fictionpress account and you can read the story I have up there. Thanks. R/R_


	16. Chapter 15

The purple flower sat on the desk. Jonathon sat in his chair, holding his cell phone. He wanted to call Timothy and tell him everything. Ms. Tebbit had given him a perfect excuse to talk to him. He was just too nervous. After what he overheard between Timothy and Frankie, he didn't know what to say. He had to think of something to let Timothy know how he felt.

There was a knock on the door. Michelle opened the door. "Dinner's ready," She walked in and up to the desk. "Would you like me to bring your plate up here?"

"No, mom. I'm not really hungry. Put it in the microwave for me, and I will eat it later." He looked up and smiled. "Please?"

Michelle looked down at Jonathon's desk. "Oh." she said, taking sight of the flower. "What a beautiful pansy." She picked it up. "Where did you find it?" She held it gently between her thumb and forefinger, examining it.

"I found it in the park. I picked it for...umm...decoration." Jonathon stammered.

"Is it for decoration?" she smiled, "or did you pick it for a certain somebody?"

Jonathon's cheeks grew warm. He turned his head to look at his computer monitor, so his mother couldn't see his face flushing. "I just thought it was a nice flower."

She set it back on the desk. "If you just leave it laying here like this, it won't last long." She turned towards the door. "Let me go get you a vase of water to put it in." She closed the door behind her.

Jonathon looked down at his phone again. Timothy's number was already dialed in. All he had to do was press the green "Send" button. It was so easy. All he had to do was call and tell Timothy that he had to stand in for Cooper. He didn't have to bring up that afternoon at all. He just wanted to hear his voice. With a deep breath, he pressed the button.

One ring.

Two rings

Three rings.

Four rings.

"It's Timothy. Leave a message." There was a beep.

Damn, thought Jonathon. Voicemail. "Hey, Timothy. It's Jonathon. Just wanted to call and let you know I turned in the assignment." Silence as Jonathon thought of what he wanted to say. "Also, Cooper broke his leg, so you will have to stand in for him for the play. Ms. T. told me to tell you. See ya." He pressed the "end" button and hung up. He picked up the purple pansy and brought it up to his nose, inhaling the fragrance deeply.

The door opened and his mother walked in, carrying a small vase full of water. "They have a very unmistakeable smell, don't they?" She set the vase down on the desk, took the flower from Jonathon's hand and put the stem in the water. She looked over her shoulder. "Is it for Timothy?" she asked quietly.

"I am hoping so." He frowned.

"Is everything alright?" Michelle asked, seeing the frown on her son's face.

"He kissed me today."

"Then why are you sad? Isn't that what you wanted?" she smiled.

Jonathon shook his head. "I wanted it...more than anything. But he didn't. Or something. He pulled away real fast, and took off."

Michelle nodded. "You haven't told him anything, have you?"

"No."

"Why the fuck not?"

Jonathon looked up, stunned. His mother rarely ever swore. He always just assumed his mother was as conservative as all his friend's mothers. "Because I don't want anyone to know."

"Jonathon, honey. It's not going to get any easier. You need to do what makes you feel happy." She sighed, smiling as she recalled a memory. "When I was younger, about your age, I was madly in love with this one guy. He was all I ever thought about. It wasn't meant to be, however. My father forbade me to date. It was a rule in my house. Your aunt and I were not allowed to date until we turned 18. So I hid my feelings from this guy.

"One day, though, I couldn't take it. It was during a school pep rally. He was on the basketball team. He was on the floor in front of everyone. I don't know what got into me. I jumped up, ran down the bleachers, and threw my arms around him. I told him how I felt, right there, in front of everyone."

Jonathon's mouth dropped. "Really? What happened."

"My father was furious. He grounded me, and told me I could not see that boy ever again. It broke my heart. But at least my love knew how I felt."

"And what did he do?"

Michelle's smile widened. "Go downstairs and ask him yourself."

Jonathon's eyes grew wide. "Dad?" Michelle nodded. "Seriously?"

"It was about a month before my 18th birthday. We didn't have to wait long. On my birthday, he stood outside our house, wearing a suit, and waited for me for three hours. It was very romantic."

Jonathon smiled. "And you are still with him today."

Michelle nodded. "And I couldn't be happier." She paused, then added, "Not even if you were straight."

"That's great, mom, but it doesn't help me with my problem."

"It doesn't?"

"Not really. I mean, you were forbidden to see dad. But you still could. It was normal. I'm not. My situation is not normal."

"Baby, the situation might be different, but the problem is still the same. I was forbidden by my father to see your father. Society looks down on you for being gay, but it doesn't mean you can't be. You want my advice? Just do it. Just tell him. Worry about the consequences afterward. That is what I did, and looked how it turned out."

"You're right, mom. Thank you. It's just so hard. And then there's dad. I know how he feels about gays."

"Don't worry about your father. He can change. If the circumstances change, he will have to adapt."

Jonathon smiled. "I think I am hungry now."

Michelle started out the door. "I'll bring you your dinner."

Jonathon sat as his desk. An idea had formed in his head. He stared at the purple pansy in the vase as he thought about what he was going to do with it. He had time to work it out. It was going to be perfect. And Timothy would be his.

…...

_A/N: Hope you liked this installment. Once again, its nearly over. If you want more, let me know in the reviews. I have plenty more where this came from, that will go beyond where the movie left off. As always R/R,_


	17. Chapter 16

Jonathon peeked through the red velvet curtain from backstage and scanned the audience. He spotted Frankie, sitting in the third row. Right next to her was an older woman, who Jonathon suspected was Timothy's mother. Sitting behind them, wearing their nice dress clothes, were Jonathon's parents. He had asked them to come, under the premise that he wanted them to see the set that he had designed. He had an ulterior motive for them being there. All shall be revealed in time. He had gone over this plan over and over again for the past two weeks. It was time to end it. It was do or die.

"Jonathon?" Jonathon looked over his shoulder and watched as Timothy approached. He had avoided Timothy as much as possible. It was time.

"Good luck out there," Jonathon smiled sincerely.

"I am so nervous," Timothy admitted. Jonathon looked him over. He looked a mess; face flushed, sweating. Jonathon could even see him shaking a little.

Keeping his distance, Jonathon patted Timothy's shoulder. "I am sure you will do fine. I know you have been doing great at rehearsals."

"You came?"

"Yeah. I had a part in this play as well. I wanted to watch it unfold."

Timothy smiled, but the smile faded quickly when he heard Ms. Tebbit call out "Five minutes to curtain. Places!"

"You will be fine," Jonathon repeated. He was about to turn away when Timothy grabbed him and gave him a tight hug.

"Thank you," Timothy whispered.

Stunned, Jonathon replied. "For what?"

Timothy pulled back and looked into Jonathon's eyes. "For being a friend. I don't have too many."

Jonathon smiled. "You can thank me by going out there and doing the best you can." Timothy nodded and walked away.

"Jonathon, dear. Is that pansy back on the table yours?" Ms. Tebbit walked up.

"Yeah."

"It's a beautiful flower. Just bring it for decoration?"

A faint blush came across his cheeks. "No, Ms. T. I am going to give it to someone after the show."

She smiled and put her hand on Jonathon's shoulder. "Wonderful." She peeked over his shoulder, through the curtain. "Is that finely dressed couple sitting behind Timothy's mother your parents?"

"I asked them to come so they could see the set."

"You did a great job on that. The set looks wonderful. I am truly glad you volunteered to help build it."

"It was nothing. I just wanted to do something more to help the play along."

"Well, I know you will enjoy the show. Shouldn't you take your seat?"

Jonathon shook his head. "Actually, I was hoping I could watch from back here."

Ms. Tebbit smiled. "Of course." She turned and walked away.

Jonathon watched from backstage as the curtain parted, starting the show. As he watched, he ran through his plan once more. He was ready. He knew it had to be tonight. He was prepared. He had brushed brushed his teeth before coming to the school. The pansy was in the back. He lifted his arm and took a quick note on the odor. He stepped from the curtain and walked to the back. There was a small desk in the back corner of the backstage area. On top of the desk sat the fragile purple pansy. Jonathon had cared tirelessly for it for the past two weeks, making sure it looked perfect for what was going to happen tonight.

"Are you not coming to sit with us? We saved you a seat?" Michelle came up behind her son.

"No. I need to be backstage."

"Jonathon, honey. What are you planning?" The worry was evident in Michelle's voice.

"I'm going to murder some birds, with one stone." He smiled and turned around to face his mother. "I know you will be proud of me after tonight."

"As long as you aren't going to do something reckless." Michelle hugged her son. She quickly pulled back and turned to leave. "Oh. I thought I should tell you. Timothy's a cutie." She smiled.

Jonathon beamed. "How do you know who he is?" His mother held up a program. She walked away, back to the audience to sit with her husband.

Roughly an hour later, Ms. Tebbit called out to him from the curtain. He walked up to her and found her giving directions to a couple of stagehands. She looked up as he approached. "Fifteen minutes. Are you ready?"

He stared. "You know what I am doing?"

She smiled. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out. Now go grab your flower." She reached up and used her fingertips to straighten out his hair.

He walked back to the desk and reached out for the flower. Fear suddenly swept over him. He hesitated, pulling his hand back. Was he sure he wanted to do this? He was potentially sacrificing his whole life to do this one thing. With Timothy, his friends, his family. What would Timothy say? Cole? Cooper? His father?

He shook his head hard. "Stop it!" he ordered himself. "You can do this."

The sudden burst of applause snapped him back to himself. It was time. He grabbed the pansy and raced back to the curtain. He watched as the curtain pulled apart once again, while the actors walked single file into center stage. He saw Timothy there, in the center of the line. He watched as they took their bows and stepped slowly onto the stage.

The spotlights were blinding. He couldn't see out into the audience. He didn't care. He wasn't out on stage for them. He walked past his classmates with determination. He didn't look around. His eyes were set on Timothy.

Jonathon smiled as he came face to face with Timothy. He held out the pansy. Timothy took it from him, looking him in the eye. "What's this?"

Jonathon grinned widely. "I believe its called a flower."

"Why are you giving me this?"

"Because," Jonathon inhaled deeply. "Because I love you." With those words, he pulled Timothy close and planted his lips on his. The kiss felt natural. It felt like it was supposed to happen. Silence greeted their ears as the curtains closed, the audience disappearing behind them.

Jonathon pulled away slowly. "I love you," he repeated, tears running down his face.

Timothy smiled as he wrapped his arms around Jonathon and melted into the embrace. The world was at peace. They had found each other.

The End

…...

_A/N: I hope you enjoyed this. I have a lot more in store for Jonathon and Timothy. If you want to read more. Please review this and let me know. I need at least 5 reviews saying that you want more. So get to it._


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